


He Gave Him the Medal

by Giroshane



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Gen, Joaquin's original ending, Violence, with some liberties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3670041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giroshane/pseuds/Giroshane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on Joaquin's original ending in the Book of Life</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Gave Him the Medal

Manolo didn’t recall another time in his life where he fought so hard. Granted, he’d never fought like this in his entire life to begin with. This was more Joaquin’s thing.

Yet here he was, facing off against two bandits like a trained soldier. _Well, not exactly_ , he thought as one of the San Ángel soldiers ran past him screaming, holding his arm in his other hand.

To his right Maria and the Adelita twins had formed an impressive trio. Maria had managed to dodge Chakal’s lunge for her, and so the battle had continued as it was, Chakal racing off in blind pursuit of the medal.

“Holy cow, hermana!” Adelita cried as Maria used the momentum from one flying back kick to propel herself into another flying back kick, knocking out two bandits in one go.

“Where were you during the revolution?” Scardelita added, shooting one bandit point blank with one pistol while reloading the other single-handedly. “We could have used a fighter like you!”

“Yeah, you’ve got to teach us those hand-to-hand moves.” Adelita sent a bandit reeling into Maria’s fists. As the bandit went down (hard), she laughed.

“Only if you teach me how to use firearms like you do!”

“Deal!” The twins chorused.

Manolo felt a swell of warmth in his heart. _Women are so awesome_.

To his left...Joaquin wasn’t there anymore. He had been fighting against his own bandits, but he must have led them off somewhere.

In his distraction, a bandit landed a blow on his face. He recovered instantly, fighting back with his estoques. He had never felt an adrenaline rush like this in his life--not even when bullfighting. But he knew what he was doing in the ring. Here, he was completely inexperienced, and the adrenaline was more borne of fear than anything else. Still, he could hold his own, as he was now. He swept the bandit’s feet out from under him, and knocked him out with a hard kick. He laughed triumphantly as the bandit went down, but his victory was short-lived when Maria screamed.

“MANOLO!”

He had forgotten about the other bandit. And he turned on his heel right into his sword.

He screamed as the blade pierced his chest, estoques falling from his hands and eyes squeezing shut in pain.

“ _NO!_ ” He heard someone shriek. He thought it was his mother.

He expected his life to flash before his eyes, memories of Maria and Joaquin and his childhood, just like the first time. But none came.

In fact, he wasn’t in pain. He wasn’t even falling to the ground. Opening one eye, he looked down at the blade in his chest. He wasn’t _bleeding_. He wasn’t _dying_. He looked between the blade and the bandit, who looked as bewildered and horrified as he felt. There was an awkward pause before Manolo realized that he was still technically fighting a bandit and oh, a _sword_ was sticking out of his _chest_!

He pulled the sword out--that didn’t hurt either--and slammed the hilt into the (still stunned) bandit’s temple. The bandit dropped like a stone. At that point Manolo realized he was still screaming. He closed his mouth and stepped back, examining the wound, or lack thereof, in his chest. there was a tear in his suit made by the sword, but the skin underneath was unblemished.

“Dios Mio, Manolo!” Maria cried, practically tackling him. He hugged her back tightly. Over her shoulder, he peered up curiously at the Gods, who still stood upon one of the church towers. Both the Candlemaker and Xibalba were eyeing La Muerte: the former more questioning, the latter more skeptical.

“What?” The goddess defended herself. “There’s only so much leeway we have, you know that as much as I do!”

Maria gasped and yanked something off his back as she pulled away.

“Look!” In her hand she held the Medal of Everlasting Life.

“That’s how you survived.” Maria murmured, staring at the medal like it meant something else, something else that she couldn’t place.

“But how did I get the medal? I told Joaquin to find it…” Manolo trailed off as realization dawned on the both of them. As if on cue, there was a war cry from the town square.

_“JOAAAAQUIIIIN!”_

“Joaquin!” Maria and Manolo gasped in unison. They bolted in the direction of the cry.

They ran faster when they heard Chakal’s roar.

~

“Joaquin!”

He slammed a bandit headfirst into the fountain.

“Joaquin!”

He elbowed a bandit in the crotch, then threw him into two more bandits. He didn’t remember a time when he felt this much pain. His chest and arms were decorated with blows he hadn’t blocked properly; his muscles were aching and sore; his nose was broken and bleeding; he must have been hit across the head at some point because blood was in his left eye and he couldn’t see out of it, and it burned brutally. But Joaquin savored it. He relished every second of it because he knew that medal was being put to good use elsewhere.

There was a brief reprieve as banditos rallied around him, and he looked up at his father’s statue.

“Hey dad.”

One of the bandits launched himself at Joaquin, only to meet with Joaquin’s fist. It was the dam breaking though, and the rest started to attack him.

“You know, when I was little, I always dreamed about fighting side by side with you in battle.”

He kicked a bandit in the face. The bandits closed in around him, forcing him up onto the edge of the fountain.

“Kind of funny how it turned out, huh?”

He seized a bandit by the belt and swung him around and into the air like a discus, the bandit shrieking as he flew. Joaquin held a hand up to shade his eyes as he watched the bandit soar. He didn’t watch for long though, as several bandits jumped onto his back. He staggered under the weight, but managed to throw them all off with a roaring cry.

_“JOAAAAQUIIIIN!”_

The bandits backed away slightly. There weren’t many of them left to fight him anyway. Not that it mattered; as long as Chakal was alive the town would never win. Joaquin had to finish this. Suddenly his eyes rested on one of the weapons a bandit had, and in the distance he spotted Chakal round a corner, searching desperately for the medal at the far end of the street.

“I’ve always wondered if you’d be proud of me, dad.” He said to the statue above him, as the plan formulated in his head. His mouth set in a grim smile.

“I guess I’ll just ask you myself, though.”

He picked up that specific bandit by the back of his shirt, ripping a bomb off his bandolier.

“I’ll be needing this! Thanks!” He drop-kicked the bandit across the square.

“Hey Chakal!” He yelled. Chakal whirled to face him, truly enraged.

“Wait a minute, do you not have the Medal of Everlasting Life?” Joaquin taunted. He dropped his jaw in mocking incredulity.

“He doesn’t! He doesn’t have it!” He laughed at a bandit, who backed away from him as if he was crazy.

“Did you hear that? Chakal does _not_ have the medal!” He announced to the statue.

“Man,” He puffed his chest out, tutting disappointedly. His plan was working; Chakal was fuming. “If only-- _if only_ \--a certain _someone_ had the medal!”

In a stroke of good luck, a bandit chose that moment to punch him in the face. He schooled his expression so that no pain passed over his features. It was hard because he didn’t roll with the hit, but he managed not to flinch.

“Oh wait…” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

“You have my medal!” Chakal snarled.

“You want it?” Joaquin jeered. “Come and get it, you big _LOSER!!!_ ”

And maybe his heart skipped a beat when Chakal roared so loudly the ground shook and the monstrous bandit gunned towards him, but this was no time to be scared out of his wits. It was now or never. He pulled a matchbox out of his pocket (from a smoking habit he had tried to abandon in anticipation of Maria's return) and quickly drew out a match. He was about to strike it, but something made him pause, and look up.

Maria and Manolo whipped around the street corner that Chakal had appeared from moments earlier. They staggered to a halt when they saw their friend. Even from far away Joaquin could see the green glow of the medal in Maria's hands, the tear in Manolo's suit, and he knew he had made the right decision, but even so: the panic and worry and concern in their eyes was piercing. Joaquin's heart ached. All the things he should have never said or did, all those times they could have had, now never had, it all flashed before his eyes. There would be no true resolution to any of it. That was the price he'd have to pay. It was well worth the price, though, to have his two friends alive and safe. They would have each other, and that was enough for him. He locked his eyes with the two of them and nodded, smiling sadly.

He would always love them. He would always remember them. He just hoped they would never forget him.

He struck the match and lit the fuse. He ran to the other side of the fountain, placing it between him and the charging bandit. He wedged the bomb in a crevice between a fountain spout and the center piece.

"Oh, and, uh, sorry." He looked up at the statue one last time. Bomb secure, he picked up two discarded bandit swords (his own lost in the fray ages ago) and ran back around. Chakal was almost there. Joaquin raced out to meet him head on. Both leapt into the air with a roar.

It was no contest. Chakal slammed Joaquin into the dirt, the force of it sliding them both all the way to the base of the fountain. Perfect. Chakal hadn't even noticed the bomb go off. He shook Joaquin so hard his head smashed against the fountain base and his vision swam.

 _"WHERE'S MY MEDAL!"_ Chakal bellowed. The statue of Captain Mondragon began to tilt and fall over them. Joaquin smiled.

"Oops."

Chakal looked up in horror, but it was too late.

In his last seconds all the triumph left Joaquin, replaced with bone-chilling terror as the statue crashed down.

"Dad?"

The last thing he heard were his friends screaming.

~

 _“JOAQUIN!”_ Maria screamed.

 _“NO!”_ It tore from Manolo like the bomb exploding as the two ran for their friend in vain. The statue of Captain Mondragon collapsed, sending a blast of dust in all directions. That didn’t stop Manolo, and he slid on his knees to the base of the statue, where Joaquin had been. He began slamming at the statue, pushing and shoving because he had to get Joaquin out of there he had to make sure Joaquin was okay because Joaquin couldn’t be gone, he just _couldn’t_.

Maria tried to help him, trying to lever the statue with all her might. Together they yelled and pushed as nothing moved and the whole town slowly came forward to watch in shell-shocked grief.

Up above in the church tower, maybe Xibalba had noticed, maybe he hadn’t, but he had taken La Muerte’s hand when the bomb went off.

“No.” It was a weak hiss when the statue collapsed, because no matter how heartless Xibalba seemed, no matter how cruel or distant he could be, he developed soft spots for few. Chosen few. And La Muerte knew it.

“Xibalba.” She murmured, and when he tore his gaze from the scene below and looked at her, she looked openly heartbroken. They both knew the truth. She returned the grip on her hand.

She smiled gently. “We only have so much power, but on the Day of the Dead we have a certain amount of…”

He perked up a little as he realized what she was saying.

“Leeway.” He finished quietly.

Down below, Maria collapsed against the statue, sobbing loudly. Manolo had wrapped an arm around her waist as a comfort, but he wasn’t in a much better state himself.

“He can’t be gone,” He kept repeating desperately, body shuddering under the force of his barely repressed sobs, “He can’t be…”

After seconds that felt like eons, Maria lifted herself away from the statue and turned completely into Manolo, hugging him tightly. She hadn’t stopped crying, but she was quiet now. Manolo returned the embrace. It felt like the world had gone dark, like it had completely vanished around them, leaving them alone with this empty hole. Neither of them heard the town of San Ángel collectively inhale.

“Joaquin…” Manolo’s voice cracked; he stared emptily at the statue, “I...there’s so much we haven’t said...hermano…”

He gave up then, burying his face in Maria’s hair and sobbing.

“Aww,” An all too familiar voice said awkwardly, “D-don’t cry guys. I mean-- _jeez_ , I didn’t--I didn’t realize you were gonna get so worked up over this I’m--I’m sorry guys I--oh--m--oh now you’re making _me_ cry. I’m a freaking skeleton. I don’t even know if I _can_ cry.”

Manolo was fairly certain his heart stopped. He was fairly certain Maria’s had too.

They let go of each other and turned. The figure above them was silhouetted in the setting sun. Manolo rose to his feet, Maria close behind. He dared not breathe lest the tiniest sound shatter this illusion. Because this couldn’t possibly be real. The sun was hidden, and the figure came into focus.

It couldn’t be real.

His eyes were yellow, with a scar through the left one. His clothes were duller, but there were no longer tears or rips in them. He was a skeleton, and his bones were etched beautifully with swirls and stars.

“Joaquin.” Maria was barely audible.

“Uh...hey, guys.” He sniffed. Apparently skeletons _could_ cry. But Manolo still couldn’t believe it. Slowly, almost mechanically, he stepped forward, raising a shaking hand to touch the figure’s cheek.

“Ma...Manny?” He stammered, nervous.

It was solid under his palm. This was real. Joaquin was there. Joaquin blurred as Manolo’s eyes welled up with fresh tears.

“Joaquin!” He leapt forward, engulfing Joaquin in a hug.

“Woah! Hey now--” Joaquin was cut off as Maria threw herself onto him as well. He stumbled a little under their weight, but held them close.

“Maria!” He laughed, “Manolo! You two are too much, really.”

They didn’t pull away.

“Idiota!” Maria cried. “Why’d you have to go and do something like that?”

“Come on, Maria,” Joaquin shifted his hold on the two so they were practically perched on his arms. “I couldn’t just let you two have all the heroics now, could I?”

Manolo rolled his eyes. “Goofball.” His voice was still thick but he reached up and ruffled Joaquin’s hair--something Joaquin would do to him all the time.

Joaquin chuckled. Suddenly he heft the two up high on his shoulders to their surprised laughter.

“The heroes of San Ángel!” He announced. Like a gun going off, the town rushed forward, hooting and cheering.

They had done it. They had _won._

Manolo and Maria cheered with them. Even the gods in their tower cheered.

Joaquin looked up at them and nodded thankfully. La Muerte and the Candlemaker were too busy celebrating, but Xibalba saw. He nodded back, smiling proudly.

Joaquin may only have this final day with his friends, but he was the happiest he had ever been.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let us all take a moment to thank whoever read the Book of Life script and politely told Jorge that Joaquin's original ending was mayyyyybe just a tad too dark and sad for a kids movie  
> Why do I let myself write sad things


End file.
